I flung open my apartment door and collapsed on the floor. Parts of my body were dead and the other parts cried out in utter exhaustion and pain.

Another magical day in Retail: The Christmas Season.

“Food… shower… Yua,” my brain called to me from far away. But I was too tired to move. I prayed for death.

I smelled the familiar heavy smell of microwaved curry. That meant my wife, Yua, was home and getting ready to go to her nursing graveyard shift.

‘Get off your ass, tiny, or I’ll step on you!’ a sassy female voice popped in my head. But it was not my wife’s.

I creakily lifted my head to look for her. Instead my eyes fell on Isobel, the mannequin we had bought at a garage sale. Yua and I had a running joke that Isobel was her real wife – and mine too – since we both seemed to see her more than each other.

I stared at Isobel. She usually wore a bright yellow dress, but now she wore a bright blue nurse’s uniform?

“Yua?” I croaked. My mouth was completely dry.

I spotted Yua lying on the floor of the kitchen. She was facing away from me. Her yellow dress was flecked with red splatter. Her arms were bruised.

I started crawling towards her. But there was something wrong with me. My body was shutting down. My vision was spinning. This was more than exhaustion. I felt myself falling….

I woke up at work.

“Could you hurry up?!” an old man barked at me. He waved his credit card in my face. I could barely hear him over ‘All I Want for Christmas’ blaring above my head.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

On my break, I checked my messages from Yua.

I’m sorry I missed you last night / I was so tired! :'( / let’s make sure we eat together tonight

‘Of course we will,’ I messaged back. ‘Gotta go – I love you ❤︎ ‘

But we never did. Every day as I came home, everything started going black. I think I saw flashes of Yua here and there. Passed out on the sofa… resting her eyes still seated at the kitchen table…

Or they may have been memories.

This is ridiculous / we need a holiday / Don’t worry – Christmas is almost here xoxo / oh God I miss you so much…

“Yua,” I whispered. My heavy eyes filled with hopeless tears. But I couldn’t picture her face. I looked up and saw a sea of mannequins surging towards me instead – their faces blank but somehow menacing and demanding. They stretched so far back they blocked out the setting sun streaming through the windows.

Isobel handed me Yua’s obituary. The funeral was this afternoon.

“Merry Christmas!” I smiled. “Would you like a bag for that?”